


Postcards From Toussaint

by LozaMoza



Series: A Love Story [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg are Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parents, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Good Parent Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Retirement, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Some angst, Suicidal Thoughts, because Geralt and Yennefer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25351642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza
Summary: These stories are connected vignettes that take place in the canonical universe of The Witcher. They assume the following:Geralt and Yennefer have retired to Toussaint in Corvo BiancoCiri is Empress of NilfgaardDetlaff and Regis are alive and still in ToussaintThis is an epilogue to my piece For The Love of Canon. I recommend reading that before reading this, as multiple events in those stories will be referenced in here.No Netflix story lines will be assumed for this piece. Book and game lore only.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Dettlaff van der Eretein/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: A Love Story [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830154
Comments: 123
Kudos: 104





	1. Coffee and Apples

It was the smell that woke him, that bitter tang that was completely new to his senses. He tried to place it, to rack his brain through 100 years of living and cataloging smells with his witcher-enhanced olfactory system. Herbal? No, it didn’t seem so. Food? Some sort of animal meat? He hoped not. Floral? Too bitter for pollinators. He reached over to her to see if she smelled it too.

His hand hit cold linens instead of her soft skin. 

Geralt felt an instant rush of panic. They had been living together in Corvo Bianco for four months, and for him, life had never felt so complete. Had she felt differently? Had she left him? Geralt felt his stomach turn at the thought.

Then he heard her laugh, soft but clear, and his breath returned to him.  _ She hasn’t left. _ But it was clear she wasn’t in the bedroom. He stretched and threw his legs over their bed, still taking a moment to appreciate that not only did he have a permanent bed of his own, but it was hers too. After two lifetimes of living on the Path, running from and chasing towards destiny, to have this ending seemed surreal. He gave a small moment of thanks to whatever god decided to grant him this gift. He didn’t plan on wasting it.

*******

He found her, sitting at the dining table with B.B., smiling at some anecdote the majordomo was sharing about the estate while holding cups of something steaming. Geralt mostly tuned out stories of Corvo Bianco’s past - he only cared about the present with her there - but Yennefer relished the history of the house and the surrounding vineyards. She wanted to know every last detail of the home they shared together. It had taken some digging on her part, but she even learned what the name Corvo Bianco meant:  _ White Raven _ . Neither could believe that at first. This place seemed almost destined for them.

Hearing the door to their bedroom open, she turned to him and a large smile broke out on her face. “Good morning, Witcher,” she smirked in a crooked grin as he walked towards her. Yennefer’s hair was tied in a messy mass of curls on top of her head, and she wore a white silk robe with black trim tied tightly around her waist. Her violet eyes were clear and dancing with mischief, the thick dark lashes leaving crescent moon shadows on her cheekbones. She was exquisite, far too beautiful than anyone had a right to be at this early dawn hour. In fact, he would have been slightly jealous, her sitting in this intimate setting with B.B., had he not known that B.B. was a gentleman of the utmost respect, and had long lived with his lover, Gaston, in the small green home on the estate. Still, he felt the urge to hold her in his arms, and as he walked behind her, he pulled her to her feet and captured her mouth in a kiss. 

As he pulled back, his face scrunched. There was a strange taste to her lips, not unpleasant, but different. He licked his lips while she laughed lightly. “What,” he said “is that on your lips?”

She reached over and softly caressed her thumb across his mouth. “Coffee,” she smiled. “Care for some?”

“Coffee? What is coffee?”

Yennefer shook her head while B.B. stood up. “Shall I pour you a cup, Master Geralt?”

Geralt wasn’t certain. The bitter tang in the air was definitely from whatever was steaming from those cups, and why either of them wanted to drink anything that smelled like that was beyond him. “I think I’m good.”

“Honestly Geralt, you consume potions made of cave troll livers and water hag tongues and you’re balking at the suggestion of a cup of coffee? B.B., please get him a mug.” Yennefer retorted.

“As the lady requests.” B.B. poured the mug and handed it to Geralt. He stared at the dark liquid. “You know, I think I’m fine.”

“Broaden your horizons, darling. Ciri sent this over. It’s a gift from the most recent delegation from Zerrikania. It’s quite a delicacy there.”

“Ha! But you hate Zerrikanian cuisine, Yen,” he responded.

“And yet I enjoy coffee. Try it, Witcher, and stop whining.” She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and sat down. He joined her in the next chair, still holding the mug, and groaned. 

“If it helps, sir, I do appreciate the bitter flavors and deep notes of the drink. Lady Yennefer was kind enough to share some with me this morning. It is quite a new taste, but one I do enjoy.”

Geralt sighed and took a sip. He grimaced and sat the mug down. “Yen, that tastes like shit.”

She laughed. “Yet ghoul’s blood is the height of fine cuisine.”

“It is if I want to survive a bruxa attack. How else do you make Black Blood?” 

She snorted softly at that. “You know exactly how I feel about those potions, Geralt. They’re devilishly tricky and I don’t trust them.”

“Well,” he said as he pulled her closer to him. “At least I won’t be needing to use them as often now.” He kissed her neck lightly and she laughed. 

“Thank you again, Lady Yennefer, for sharing your gift with me, and for the wonderful conversation. I must see to my daily duties now, if you please.” Geralt noted that B.B. was becoming quicker at vacating the area when Geralt and Yennefer were together for too long. He couldn’t blame him. The poor man had walked in on some rather compromising situations since Yennefer moved in full-time. She was still as adventurous as ever and cared little for propriety, though he was somewhat more reserved. Poor B.B. had been mortified more than once, and after he had had a quiet talk with Geralt about it, Geralt promised to keep their affairs as private as possible. Of course, it was also easy to forget that when he had Yennefer leaning against him, her creamy neck bared before him.

“You scared away poor B.B.” she laughed as she turned to straddle him in the chair. 

“Good,” he muttered as he began to untie her robe. “I don’t need him here for this.”

“No, darling, you most certainly do not,” she sighed as she leaned down to kiss him. “But didn’t you promise him we’d keep our ‘activities’ to the bedroom?”

“I said as private as possible,” he replied as he cupped her breasts.

“And I suppose a chair in the dining room fits that requirement?” she laughed at the feel of his tongue against her nipples.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Yen?” he groaned as he licked down her sternum.

“Mmhmmm perhaps…” she mumbled, but the rest was lost in a throaty sigh when Geralt’s hand found her center.

They never did make it to the bedroom. 

*******

“Explain to me, one more time, why we have to do this?” Geralt stood with the shovel in hand, staring at the five trees in burlap sacks. Each was about 6 feet tall, only a few years old, and spattered with tiny blossoms. “We have dozens of workers, we have money to hire out labor, and at worst case, you’re a mage. So why the hell do we need to manually dig these holes?”

She sighed, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “I told you, you wanted an orchard like our island. Well, we didn’t have magic on the island, did we. So we have to do it by hand.  _ Our _ hands”

“Yennefer, that doesn’t make any damn sense.”

She huffed. “I really don’t care if you think it makes sense or not, Geralt. This is important. I want our home to have this.” She stopped for a minute, reaching out to touch a blossom. She looked at him softly. “I know it doesn’t seem rational, Geralt, I know...but I have to do it this way. Please.”

He sighed, loud and miserably “Fine,” he grumbled as he sunk the shovel into the soft earth. 

“Geralt…not there, here.” She was pointing to a spot a few feet to his left. 

The Witcher cursed.

*******

“Geralt.” The voice sounded far off, and he was more interested in continuing a very pleasant dream involving Yennefer, the rope he used for trophies, and a blindfold. He turned to the side.

“Geralt!” The voice was a bit louder. He tried to ignore it again. 

“Geralt! Wake up!” she was shaking him softly now.

“Yen, fuck, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Yes, I heard exactly what you were dreaming about too, Witcher, and I must say, that is a delicious idea.” Geralt perked up at that. “But darling, that’s not why I’m waking you. Come on, come outside.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him. He groaned. Digging the holes deep enough for trees, exactly where Yennefer had requested, while she prepared the saplings, was a pain in the ass. But being coddled in the bath, with her massaging his shoulders, made the excursion worth it. However, he was exhausted, and walking around the property at night wasn’t in his plans.

“Yen, I’m tired. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“Oh Witcher, just trust me.” She pulled him harder and he stood to follow her into the cool Toussaint air.

When they reached the spot she had in mind, he smiled and laughed slightly. Where five small saplings he had planted by hand stood that afternoon, now massive apple trees stood in their place. Each well over 20 feet tall, their limbs were gnarled and heavy with the weight of apples; the air thick with the scent of the blossom’s perfume. Geralt walked up to one and touched the bark, feeling the rough edges against his palm. It was just like their island. He turned back to her and smirked. “Whatever happened to no magic, Yen?”

“I know,” she sighed. “I know. But, I couldn’t wait, Geralt. I wanted to share this with you again.” She walked up to him and took his hand. “Sit with me?”

“Always.”

They sat down, Geralt leaning against the bark while Yennefer leaned her back into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and took a deep breath. It felt so similar to their island he could almost hear the water lapping at the shore; the birdsong filling the air. 

“Do you remember her star?” Yennefer hummed happily as she snuggled into him.

“I do, Yen.”

“I wonder if it is still flashing green like it did. Pity we will never be able to see it again.”

“We get her now,” he replied as he kissed her head.

She turned into him and smiled widely, her grin against the skin of his chest, his favorite feeling in the world. “We certainly do, Witcher. We certainly do.”


	2. Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer deals with some painful issues from her past, with a little help from Regis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this, make sure to brush up on the Chapter Rollercoaster in For the Love of Canon (Part 1 of this series). This chapter is entirely based on that story.

**Yennefer**

She woke with a start, her heart racing. Cold sweat beaded along her temples, dampening her hair, and the wetness of it brought the dream to the forefront of her mind.

The bath. The bath that nearly claimed her. 

It had been haunting her lately, flashes coming to her mind at the most inopportune times. She’d be laying on the chaise outside, enjoying the sun, and feel her lungs begin to crush inside her. She’d be laughing with Geralt and B.B., a glass of wine in her hand, and the dread would roll over her like an evil fog. She couldn’t understand why, at the best moment in her life, her traitorous mind was trying to ruin her, but she was determined to ignore it. And for the most part, she could.

It was sleep that was her true nemesis. She couldn’t hide from the dreams.

For a while, she was able to expel the dreams with magic, but that only worked for a short period. Unbeknownst to Geralt, she had gotten desperate enough to even seek help outside herself, confiding in Regis that she was plagued with nightmares. She had hoped for a mandrake tonic - she knew he had prodigious skills with the root - but what she received was something else entirely. 

*******

_ As she knocked on the old door to the crypt, she took a quick glance at the sky above. She knew she didn’t have the luxury of time. Geralt had taken a local contract to deal with an infestation of some ghoul or aghoul - she could never remember the difference, something about spines? - but the vineyard was close to their own. While he did enjoy the random contract, he did not want to travel far and refused anywhere that required a stay overnight. “I’ve suffered two lifetimes of hard surfaces and dirt paths to earn the gift of coming home to our bed with you in it, preferably naked, every night. Why the hell would I take an overnight contract?” She had smiled and pulled him to her at that. That had also been the last night she went to bed clothed. _

_ “Lady Yennefer? Please, come inside,” the comforting voice called from within. She opened the door to be greeted with the smell of dried herbs and alchemical compounds. “Down the stairs to your left.” _

_ She smiled when she saw the grey-haired vampire. Of all the surprises to greet her in Toussaint, befriending Regis was one of the most pleasant. She never had the honor of meeting the members of Geralt’s hansa outside of Dandelion. Stygga, that wicked castle, had claimed them all. Regis had been but a flash in her memory before Vilgefortz had melted him to no more than stain on the pillar of that place. To discover that he had been brought back by Detlaff was a blessing Geralt cherished. The two would often share memories over a glass of wine or Regis’ Mandrake Root Distillate. She would lean against Geralt’s shoulder, his arm around her, while they would share names like Cahir, Milva, Angouleme. As the men would speak, she would silently thank the hansa. She’d thank them not only for their sacrifice in their drive to save her and Ciri, but for traveling with Geralt; for ensuring he wasn’t alone. She wished she could have met them all.  _

_ “Lady Yennefer,” he said with a smile as he bowed his head lightly.  _

_ “My dear Regis, how many times must I ask you to call me Yennefer?” She smiled and went to hug him. He embraced her warmly.  _

_ “Tell me, my friend, what brings you here? Your letter did not say much. I hope everything is alright with our dear Witcher.” _

_ “Geralt is fine, Regis, thank you for asking. How fare’s Detlaff?” _

_ “Improving, though still shaken. I’m not sure he will be able to trust humans for some time, most unfortunately. But I shall stay with him. He is my friend.” _

_ Yennefer watched him closely. She knew exactly how much Regis cared for Detlaff, and how it went far beyond mere friendship, but it was not her place to pry. “He is lucky to have a friend as understanding and compassionate as you, Regis.” _

_ Regis smiled slightly, his look almost wistful. “You are kind to say so, Yennefer.” _

_ “That’s better.” Regis and her shared a small grin. “Anyway, I haven’t come for Geralt, but for me. I am hoping with your alchemical knowledge, you may be able to provide some assistance. You see, I am having....nightmares, almost nightly now, and I wish for some sort of tonic to alleviate them.” _

_ “Nightmares? Interesting. Any idea of the cause.” _

_ Utter despair. Attempted suicide. Heartbreak. Take your pick. “Past trauma.” _

_ “Considering the life you and Geralt have led, that does not narrow it down. Is this nightmare anything specific?” _

_ “What do you mean?” She just wanted a tonic for a dreamless sleep, not a psychoanalysis.  _

_ “I have found in past patients with such afflictions, nightmares can often be tied to a specific moment.” _

_ “Regis, there have been many moments in my life worthy of nightmares. Very few have actually caused them. I’m sure this will go away in time as the rest did. Now, do you have anything to help. I am of course willing to pay.” She pulled out her coin purse. _

_ “Yennefer, I am not interested in your crowns, I’m only interested in helping someone I consider a very dear friend.” He walked to the cabinet in the small alcove and pulled out a blue bottle. “This is an elixir to induce sleep. It should help you rest.” He placed it in her hands, closing his around hers. His skin was almost cold to the touch. “But Yennefer, I must impress this upon you: if you do not deal with whatever pain is causing these nightmares, they will only increase strength, duration, and frequency. You cannot ignore the root cause.” He paused for a moment. “Talk to Geralt. He will want to listen.” _

_ “Geralt has had enough problems to be burdened with for multiple lifetimes, Regis. You know this.” _

_ “And you know that no problem you would ever have would be a burden to him. Talk to him, Yennefer.” _

_ She smiled at Regis, placing the bottle into her satchel. “Thank you for the elixir, Regis, and for your council. Please tell Detlaff hello for me.” _

_ Regis sighed slightly and smiled. “Of course, Yennefer. Thank you for stopping by.” _

_ With that she opened a portal back to Corvo Bianco.  _

*******

She had taken the elixir for the past week, and while it certainly induced sleep, like Regis warned her, it did nothing to stop the nightmares from coming. She still felt hot and flush and emotionally raw. She needed a release. She looked over to Geralt, who was staring at her, concern etched on his face. 

“Another one?” He reached over to touch her arm. “That’s the fourth this week, Yen. We need to talk…”

But she didn’t want him to talk...at all. She pushed him to his back and straddled him. 

“Yen, what…?” But she captured his lips in a needy and desperate kiss and she ground her naked frame against him. He hardened immediately and groaned.

She pulled back. “Make love to me, Witcher,” she whispered to him in his ear as she bit his earlobe gently. He moaned and grabbed her hips, pulling her against him, coating himself in her. He cursed when he felt how wet she was. He reached down to touch her, to ready her as he always did, but she needed him  _ now _ . She didn’t have any need for preliminaries. “I said make love to me,” she said a bit more forcefully, and she angled her hips and sank onto him, calling out his name. 

“Fuck, Yen, what’s gotten into you?” But she started to move and he groaned, feeling her hot and tight around him. She moved faster, desperate to chase that rush of pleasure and just forget it all for a moment, and with Geralt gripping her hips hard enough to leave tiny crescent moons in her skin, she found her release, screaming as she shuddered against him. He followed suit, emptying himself into her with a choked-off cry. She crashed against his chest, shaking and fighting back tears.

He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair softly as their breathing returned to them. “I want you to tell me.” He spoke softly, barely above a whisper. 

She turned her face into his chest, small tears escaping from the corners of her eye. “I don’t think you do, Geralt.”

He rolled them to the side so he could look her in the eyes. He gently moved his hand to tuck her curls behind her ear. “That’s not true, Yen. I want to hear, no matter how hard.”

She let out a shaken sigh. She had kept that moment hidden from him for so long, terrified of what it would do to him, the shame he would feel against her at her weakness. “Geralt, I can’t…”

He cut her off. “Yen, please.”

She closed her eyes and let out a forced breath. “Are you sure?”

“Tell me.”

She swallowed, her throat felt dry and her heart raced. Few moments in her life had she been so incredibly vulnerable. “When I recovered my memories, you and Ciri came back to me first. I knew Ciri was currently lost, but I was desperate to see you. After our orchard, and after the Hunt; I just needed to make sure you were alright, to see your face. And so I asked one of the mages helping to return my memories to perform hydromancy to find you.”

Geralt’s face grew concerned. “When was this?”

“It was when you were at Kaer Morhen. I saw you and Triss, together.”

His lips quivered, pain flashing across his features. “Yennefer, you know that was nothing. You know I didn’t remember you.” 

“Of course I know, Geralt. I know and I do not hold it against you. But I didn’t know it then, I thought you had moved on from me. From us.” Her voice trembled slightly. 

“Yen, Yen I am so sorry you had to see that. I, I’m so sorry..” He pulled her into him tightly and buried his face in her hair. She pulled back and held his cheeks in her hands, staring directly into his eyes.

“Geralt, that’s not all. After I saw that, I...I wasn’t in the right space and I acted completely irrationally. I was so weak I just wanted to end it, all of it. I planned on...”

“What,” he said with a concerned whisper.

“It was only for a moment, truly. But I lowered myself completely into the bath and I planned on staying under...until it was over.” She pulled her eyes away from his desperate glare. “It was Ciri, her voice, that brought me back. She made me come up.”

His skin, flushed from their lovemaking, drained of color. He pulled away, sitting up in the bed. “You tried to kill yourself?” he said flatly. 

“It was a desperate moment, Geralt. I…”

“I made you want to kill yourself,” he said again.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly, Geralt. It was just a moment…”

“I can’t, I can’t be here right now.” He grabbed his pants and shirt and threw them on, heading to the door in long strides. 

“Geralt!” Yennefer said, panic in her voice. “Geralt stop! It was just…”

“How the FUCK am I supposed to deal with this, Yennefer? How the fuck can I handle that I made the woman I love more than anything in this life want to kill herself because of me? HOW?!?” he was shaking, his eyes fighting back tears. 

Her breath cut short. He never even considered to be ashamed at her that she fell so low for a crazed instant. He was ashamed of himself, for something that wasn’t his fault. She stood up and walked to him, cupping one cheek and turning it to her. “Geralt,” she whispered. “Geralt, you have nothing to be ashamed of, my love. I know the image wasn’t what it seemed. I know you had no memory, and no one bothered to tell you of me and Ciri. I know all of this. I just wanted to tell you what my nightmares were about, darling, because you asked. And that is my nightmare: that I stayed under that water a moment longer and lost all of this. That you would be so disgusted by my weakness you’d leave me.”

He turned to her, running his hands across her lips. “How could you ever think I would find you weak, Yen? You’re the strongest person I know.”

She fell into him at that, holding him tightly, relishing the feel of his arms around her. “Come back to bed with me, Witcher. Please.” He pulled his shirt over his head and followed her. As they lay down, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close. They whispered words of love to one another, kissing each other’s tears away and smiling against each other’s warm skin. 

“Regis may have been right,” she grinned as sleep was near taking her.

“Regis?” 

“I saw him, I asked him how to help get rid of these damn nightmares. He told me to talk to you.”

Geralt smiled. “Yeah, he usually is correct. There has never been a greater example of humanity than Regis.”

Yennefer cuddled into his neck. “But Witcher, he’s a vampire.”

Geralt smiled once before he ran his hands along her spine and softly kissed her. “I know.”

They both fell into a dreamless and healing sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Regis. And I love writing him. Seriously.


	3. The Official Visit (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri comes to visit home, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This postcard is going to be 3 parts. I hope you all enjoy, because it's an important one!

**Geralt**

She stretched languidly next to him, the morning sun turning her skin to a pale gold, and he pulled her to him. She smelled impossibly enticing, lilacs and gooseberries and just a hint of their last night’s rendezvous, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, sending soft kisses down her skin. She laughed lightly.

“Someone’s up early,” she cooed, and he knew she wasn’t just talking about his person.

“Mmhhmmm,” he muttered as he pulled her on top of him, intent to feel her come undone around him yet again. 

She kissed him softly and, to his dismay, pushed herself away from his chest. “Witcher, have you forgotten?” 

Hoping this was some cruel tease, he decided to play along. “Forgotten how amazing you feel? Yes, I have. Remind me.” He tried to pull her mouth to him again, but she locked her elbows.

“Like you could possibly forget _that_ ,” she quirked her brow at him, “again. But no, love, remember? Ciri is coming home for her official visit today. There’s much to do, so this,” she turned her head to his straining erection behind her, “will unfortunately need to wait.” With that, she rolled off of him and stepped onto the floor. Her naked frame sent a jolt through him, landing straight in his neglected cock. 

“Surely there’s time,” he moaned, a bit too desperate for his liking. 

“Alas, there is not,” she called as she began to clean herself and dress. She chose an off-the-shoulder white dress, cinched tightly at the waist with a wide dark leather belt. The dress had slits up the sides of her thighs, and as she put on her pale stockings with the white lace details, he considered taking care of the problem himself while watching her. As he reached to touch himself, she turned. “Honestly, Geralt, stop acting like a lust-filled youth and get up. Chop chop, Witcher.”

His hand fell away and he groaned. “Fuck.”

*******

30 minutes later, a freshly bathed and thoroughly grumpy witcher wandered down the stairs and into a flurry of activity. Marlene was running in and out of the kitchen as a small army of workers flocked around the estate cleaning and organizing like mad, while Yennefer stood by the table, cup of coffee in her hand. She had, in Geralt’s opinion, become addicted to the bitter drink. She was chatting with B.B. as he furiously scribbled notes. Geralt walked up to her, confused as he caught the tail-end of her conversation.

“...Yes, I believe 10 cases of ‘71 White Wolf, 5 cases of the ‘68 Est Est, and 3 of the ‘62 Sangriel should do it for the stay. Reserve half the Est Est and all the Sangriel until the final party. I plan to thoroughly enjoy seeing the Duchess’ face when we offer it for her, considering she still labors under the false impression that it is only for the royal court of Toussaint.”

“Will Her Enlightened Ladyship be joining us, Lady Yennefer?” B.B. asked, mouth ajar.

“Unfortunately yes, the entitled little beast must make an appearance since Ciri will be here, and she owes my daughter her fealty. Fortunately, Emperor Emhyr has decided not to attend, which saves us the headache that comes when his full court travels.”

“My Lady, the costs for all of that, plus the food and lodging, will be, how to be delicate, extreme. I am not sure if the vineyard can support such an expense.” B.B. looked exceedingly embarrassed. 

“I am not worried about the expense, B.B., nor should you.” Yennefer smiled at him and took a small sip of her coffee. B.B. nodded.

“In that case, I am happy to confirm the order. It should arrive this afternoon. The party is tomorrow evening, which means we need to speed up preparations .” B.B. replied.

“I leave that in your capable hands, B.B.” B.B. smiled and took off outside, pulling a few idling workers with him. Geralt heard him shouting something nondescript as the front door closed.

“Yen, what the hell is going on?” he said as he sidled up to her. He took the cup out of her hands and took a sip. He still didn’t much enjoy the taste of coffee, but he was a fan of the way he felt after he drank a bit. Yennefer had mentioned some property in the coffee that served as a natural stimulant. Whatever it was, he was willing to put up with the bitter flavor to get that alert feeling. “Why is our home being torn apart?”

She leaned gently against him and took back her mug. “Why must you always steal my coffee?”

He took the mug back and sipped it again. “Your’s taste better.”

She laughed lightly at that. “Fair enough, Witcher.”

“So, what the hell is going on with the house?”

“I told you already, Ciri is coming.”

“Ya, I got the Ciri part.” He moved out of the way as Marlene rushed through with a massive ham. “But this seems a bit over-the-top for one girl.”

Yennefer gave him a quizzical look, the kind she always gave him when she knew something he didn’t. “Darling, what do you think it means when Ciri comes for an official visit?”

“That she’s officially coming over for a visit…” He was beginning to feel uncomfortable and more than a bit concerned. 

“Well yes, Ciri is coming, but so is her court. Not the full court of course, Emhyr will not be joining her thank the gods, but she still has her favored nobles, ministers, courtiers, and of course her personal household staff.” 

Geralt’s eyes widened and he felt queasy. “Yen, how many people are coming here?” 

“100, give or take, plus at least an additional 100 for the party tomorrow.”

‘200 PEOPLE!!!!! You can’t be serious?!”

“Calm down, Geralt, you’re getting yourself in a huff.” She took her coffee from his hands for another sip before handing it back to him. 

“How the hell are we feeding everyone? House everyone? How are we affording all of this??” He was panicking, imagining how many endless witcher contracts he’d need to do to financially recover from this.

“Perhaps, one of these days, you will accept that I have a long list of investments that have paid off quite handsomely over the years, and I reinvest those well. Not to mention, Duchess Anna Henrietta will be providing the most of the wine and all of the meals for the party. She is quite cross that it will not be at the palace, of course, but insisted on providing the food and drink for the party to outdo the “lowly witcher” who failed to save her sister. I saw little reason to fight her on this. We’ve been receiving deliveries all morning. As to the housing question,” she took the coffee mug and sat it on the table, “follow me.”

They walked outside to the large flower field that surrounded Corvo Bianco. Often he and Yenenfer would picnic there, watching the wild horses feast on the lush greenery. Today, it was full of bright white tents. Some were relatively small, others a bit larger, but none seemed exceptionally impressive, though they were all impeccably white with black Great Sun banners of Nilfgaard. 

“Yen, they can’t sleep in these. I mean, it looks ok, but on the floor in a field? For nobles?” Geralt shook his head. 

“Before you shake your head in disappointment, Geralt, why don’t you look inside?” 

Deciding to humor her, he smirked, lifted the flap, and stepped inside, expecting to see some cots and maybe a blanket or two. He should have known. Instead, the humble tent on the exterior opened into a large room, obviously magically enhanced. Lush bedding covered the 4 post bed, side tables for dressing, a closet, ornate rugs, and the entire place smelled of fresh linens. She followed him in, a smile on her face. “Magic _is_ rather convenient, isn’t it?”

He looked at her and chuckled softly. “I never should have doubted you.” He wrapped his arms around her.

“You’d do well to remember that, Witcher,” she sighed softly against his lips. He captured them for a kiss that quickly turned hungrier. “Geralt,” she said as she pushed back lightly, her voice breathy and full of lust. “Ciri will be here any minute…”

“Then we’d better make it quick.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed, lifting her dress. She laughed as she gave into him completely. 

*******

A short while later, and in a much better mood, Geralt was smirking as Yennefer finished magically cleaning and rearranging the bedding. 

“See, plenty of time.” 

“Yes, yes, I suppose you were correct,” she sighed happily as she pinched the bottom of his chin. Just then a loud horn blew. “They’re here,” she said in a voice that gave her excitement away. She rushed out of the room, leaving Geralt smiling as he jogged to keep up with her. 

As they neared the procession, Ciri squealed when she saw them. She hopped off her horse and took off towards her parents, barreling into Yennefer first. “Mother, I missed you!” she said happily as she snuggled into Yennefer’s hair. 

“I’ve missed you too, my daughter,” Yennefer sighed and clutched her tighter. Geralt grinned, and for the briefest of moments he thought of Stygga. He remembered sitting in-between them on those bloodied stairs, Ciri leaning her head on one shoulder, Yennefer on the other, and wishing it could always be like that. Never in his most outlandish fantasizes could he have imagined this outcome for them.

Witchers weren’t supposed to have this.

Yet somehow, he did. And he’d never lose it again. 

‘Don’t I even get a greeting?” He chided jokingly as Ciri continued to hold Yennefer. She gave Yennefer one more quick squeeze and moved into Geralt’s warm embrace. “I miss you too, old man,” she laughed. 

“How generous,” Geralt replied as he gave her a massive hug. “Now tell me, Witcher Girl, have you been keeping up with your swordsmanship?”

“Of course!” she laughed as she pulled away. “Like I’d allow myself to get slow like you.”

“Do I detect a challenge in that braggadocio?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, green eyes sparkling. The court was all making their way into the estate, and Geralt already felt overwhelmed. They both looked to Yennefer.

“Oh just go, already,” she sighed. “I’ll deal with this.” Ciri squealed again and hugged her before she took off towards her horse to get her sword Zireal. Geralt smiled and gripped Yennefer by the waist.

“You sure you got this handled?” 

“Didn’t we just go over you not doubting me again?”

He kissed her lightly. “I love you,” he sighed. 

“And I love you.” She kissed him on the corner of his mouth. “Now go, your daughter is waiting.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek and went to grab Ciri to take her to the training yard. 

“Do be careful, please. The last thing I need is to patch one of you up,” she yelled after them as B.B. ran up to her, looking frazzled. 

It was good advice, but lost to the two headed down to the yard. 

*******

Geralt sat down on the bench, exhausted, his sword falling out of his hand. He was hot, sweat dripping down his shirt causing it to stick to his back, and he was covered in dust from the training rink. Ciri plunked herself beside him, letting out a heavy breath as she slumped her elbows on her knees. 

“Fuck Ciri, you _are_ fast.”

“Maybe you’re just getting slow?” she laughed, sweat pouring down her face. “Too much good living with Yennefer and not enough life or death on the Path.”

“Mmmhmm,” Geralt responded happily, smile on his face. “I still beat you though.”

“Barely,” she retorted. She took a deep sigh and leaned back. “So, how is retirement and life in Toussaint treating you?” Geralt just smiled wider. “That good, huh?”

“Better. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, at long last.” He thought of waking up next to Yennefer every day and of lazy mornings spent in each other’s arms. He thought of how he never wanted this to end. “In fact, I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

He grinned at her. “Want to sneak away with me for a little bit? It shouldn’t be too long. I just need to pick up something I commissioned to have made in Beauclair. It’s done...finally.”

“New armor?” Ciri stated. “From your letters you seem to be amassing quite the collection.”

Geralt shook his head. “No armor this time.”

“Geralt,” she said, her voice taking on a leading tone. “What exactly did you have made in Beauclair?”

Geralt just smirked a bit wider and stood up, offering her his hand. “Come with me to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can just see Geralt being totally overwhelmed at the idea of court coming to stay, and totally ignorant of what an "official visit" entails. 
> 
> Plus, get ready for dad/daughter adventures!


	4. The Official Visit (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt takes Ciri to pick up something important he had made in Beauclair, but nothing is as simple as a quick trip to the city for a witcher and his empress daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of my previous stories from For the Love of Canon are referenced here, including Blue Nazir Roses and Cirilla of Vengerberg, Daughter of Yennefer. It's not crucial to understanding this story, but if you haven't read them, it will provide far more backstory to do so before reading this. And of course this is part 2 of the Official Visit chapter so make sure read that first. Also, a bit of actual canon is referenced, mainly when Yennefer and Ciri arrive in Gors Velen. Fun fact: I actually have lilac and gooseberry perfume that is designed exactly like her little jar described in this scene. I can see why Geralt finds it irresistible. It smells amazing.

**Geralt**

As the horses made their way through the crowded and bright streets of San Sebastian, Geralt looked to Ciri with her covered head and smiled. She wasn’t too concerned about the possibility of recognition - few people outside of Nilfgaard actually knew what she looked like to be any real problem - but Geralt had been insistent. 

“You know, you remind me of Mother, so concerned I might be recognized. It was long ago, I was still a child when we rode into Gors Velen, but she acted much the same as you are now.”

Geralt shook his head, wishing, as he always did, he could turn back the hands of time and change so much about that period. Had he the opportunity to do it over, he would have had Yennefer come to Kaer Morhen. He would have swallowed his foolish and stubborn pride, had told her there that he loved her, that it was only her, that it had only ever been her, and that it was pointless for them to pretend something otherwise. He often wondered how much of their story would have been different had he written to Yennefer instead of Triss in those early days of Ciri’s youth. In darker moments, he would curse his own weakness over not doing so in the beginning. Now though, now was not the time for regret. 

“I’m sure she was adamant you cover your head as well,” he responded as he pulled himself from his reveleries. 

“She did force me to hide my hair under a cap,” Ciri laughed. “But you know her, she had ‘other’ ways of distracting people’s attention.”

Geralt frowned, unsure of where the conversation was heading. “And what was that?”

“Well, she used her glamarye, and every man was so interested in staring at  _ her _ , they didn’t even notice me. They were practically salivating over her, tripping over themselves to do her bidding. I was so jealous she wouldn't give any to me.”

He groaned. He was used to the looks other men gave Yennefer, but it grated him nonetheless. He suspected it always would, even after years of adjusting to them. Still, the idea of her needing to purposely use this as a distraction infuriated him, entirely at himself. He should have been with her then. She wouldn’t have needed to make herself the target of their stares had he been there. 

“Stop beating yourself up, will you? It’s pointless, and it worked out alright in the end anyway,” Ciri mumbled. “Now, where are we going?”

“To do something I should have done years ago.” He gripped the reins tighter, impatient and determined. He was tired of waiting. He had waited long enough. 

Ciri just grinned back, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. She said nothing more as they wound through the twisting streets towards upper Beauclair.

**Ciri**

“Oh Geralt, it’s..it’s…” She didn’t even have the words. The ring was like nothing she had ever seen. Geralt had designed it especially to Yennefer’s taste, and it was exquisite. A large but tasteful princess-cut diamond set in the center, and weaving around it was thin black and silver bands, small diamonds set within them, forming a design that looked nearly elven in its grace. 

“That’s actually gold, those bands, but these jewelers have a process that makes them appear black and silver. I didn’t know such a thing was even possible.” He was quiet for a moment, his breathing shallow. “Do..Do you think she’ll like it? That she’ll say yes?” 

Ciri looked up at him, his eyes boring into hers, practically pleading with her to calm his fears. She had seen Geralt face down foes that would send most men cowering to the shadows while wetting their britches, but Yennefer, she could unsettle even the most stalworth witcher. “Geralt, how could you even begin to doubt that she would say yes and marry you?”

“Ciri, we’ve been through a lot and I’ve...well,  _ we’ve _ hurt each other more than I care to admit.”   
  


“Stop it, stop doubting yourself, doubting both of you. You’re done with that.” She saw his slight wince and spoke a bit softer. “Can you truly still not see how much she loves you?”

Geralt grinned at that. “I know she loves me, and gods know I love her. But what I don’t know is if she even cares for marriage, or the idea of it at least.” He took the ring from her palm, nestled in the black leather box, and sighed.

Had Yennefer ever spoken to her about marriage?  _ No, she hadn’t. Except once, in regards to an old lover, long ago _ . “Why would you think she wouldn’t like the idea of marriage?”

She saw Geralt grip the box tighter in his hands, his eyes flicking from it to hers. “She turned another down once,” he muttered.

“Istredd, of Aedd Gynvael.”

Geralt was quiet for a moment, the mere mention of the name seeming to give him pause. “She told you about him?”

“She did. It was before I met with those Lodge harpies in Vengerberg,” her lips tightened at the memory. “She told me she would have married him,” Geralt’s eyes shot up at that, “but that  _ you _ came along, and after that, there was no way she could go through with it.” He let out the pained breath he had been holding. Ciri swore she could hear his heart hammering inside his chest. “Oh Geralt, her turning down Istredd had nothing to do with not wanting to be married, but with her not wanting to marry  _ him _ . She wants to be with you. I really think this should be quite obvious by now, you silly old man.” She winked at him and Geralt grinned, a small dimple forming in his left cheek, the kind that only would show when he smiled large enough to create it.

“Thank you, Ciri,” he whispered as he put the box in the left side pocket of his chest armor. She threw her arms around her neck and hugged him. 

“She’s going to love it, Geralt. Truly.” 

They held each other for a long time. 

*******

“I still don’t know why you want to see these old cemeteries,” Geralt grumbled as they made their way towards Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery. They had left Orlémurs Cemetery and Ciri had insisted on viewing the larger cemetery outside Beauclair before they went back to Corvo Bianco.

“You have to admit, the tombstones there were fascinating. Who do you think Jean-Luc Picard was?” she mused.

“Apparently a great commander, and a greater man.”

“I wonder what he was like? To get such an inscription to be remembered by, he must have been a true visionary and leader.”

Geralt laughed. “Are you mooning over a dead man?”

She sneered momentarily, then decided the best revenge was to make him uncomfortable. She had heard of the stuffed unicorn, as well as her parents...fondness...for it. “What do you think unicornipositusphilia is?” 

Geralt stopped his horse. “Excuse me?” 

She stopped next to him. “Unicornipositusphilia. It was on one of the headstones there. Poor Sir Conan of Braye End died while witnessing an act of it.” Mischief glittered in her eyes as she watched Geralt squirm uncomfortably in his saddle. “I mean it must be quite horrid, to die just witnessing it?” she continued. “So do you know what it is?” 

“Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery is this way, “ Geralt muttered as he spurred Roach forward. Ciri chuckled to herself.

“So,” she continued as she trotted to catch him. “How are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Propose, obviously,” she said as she rolled her eyes. 

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he replied. “I supposed I’ll just ask her to marry me. Isn’t that how these things usually go?”

“Geralt, honestly, how foolish can you be? This is the woman you’ve loved for over 20 years. You’re going to tell me you’ve never imagined how you would propose?”

“I didn’t realize it had to be an event. Why can’t I just ask her to marry me?”

“Geralt! This needs to be special. This moment should culminate your entire journey together. It should wrap up how deeply you love one another. It should be more special than anything you have ever had happen to you both before.” 

Geralt turned to her, his face pale as they entered into the large forest just outside Beauclair. “Shit Ciri, now you’re making me nervous.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re woefully unprepared for this. Are you getting her flowers?”

“The last time I left her flowers she burned them to ash.”

Well fuck. Nothing could ever be normal with her parents. “When was this?” 

“Vengerberg.”

“When you left her? Excellent.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but he ignored it. 

“It was a long time ago.”

“True, she’s obviously over it now. What about a beautiful bouquet of roses?”

“It was roses she burned. Then the whole Triss thing with the Rose of Remembrance...neither of us are especially fond of roses.”

“Why must you both make  _ everything _ so difficult?” She groaned. He merely shrugged.

“Any other brilliant ideas?”

“What’s your favorite thing to do together?” Geralt smirked, and she grimaced in response. “Besides that. Come on, there must be something.”

Geralt smiled, his expression nearly dreamy “The apple trees. We love watching the stars under the apple trees.”

“Like the island?”

“Yeah, like the island. Yen and I - and mainly me - planted them when she moved into Corvo Bianco with me. It was to remember our island we lost. We would sit against the bark, me holding her, and look at the stars. We even named one after you.” 

Ciri grinned as she looked at Geralt, lost in his memories of his island sanctuary with Yennefer. “It’s perfect,” she said, and she reached out her hand to squeeze his. 

“You think so?”

“Absolutely.” He took her hand and squeezed it. 

Just then, a ghostly howling rang throughout the dense thicket. It bounced off the trunks of the trees, reverberating into their very bones.

“Shit,” Geralt said. “Barghests. Ciri, RUN!”

A ghoulish and horrifying dog materialized in front of them. It was a sickly green, it’s ghostly fangs dripping with saliva. Ciri’s horse, unfamiliar to facing down any brand of monster, rolled back its eyes and reared in horror. Unable to control it, Ciri fell hard to the ground. The animal bolted before she could lift herself up. 

“SHIT!” Geralt yelled. He jumped off of Roach and slapped her haunch, telling her to run. The animal took off after her terrified companion. Ciri got up quickly and grabbed Zireal. “With me!” Geralt told her as five more dogs surrounded them.

The creatures attacked as one, and Ciri screamed as the fangs of the beast came towards her. It seemed like it ran through her very being, and she couldn’t see momentarily. “Careful!” he yelled. “They can temporarily blind you.” Another charged and Geralt cast  _ quen _ immediately before it ripped into Ciri’s neck, sending the beast bouncing off the magic shield. “Sword up, Ciri!”

She collected herself and they fought together, swiping through the creatures effectively. Ciri had killed two - the ghost dogs vanishing into a pile of green ashes upon their demise - Geralt three, and they only had the pack leader remaining. Ciri readied her sword, preparing to attack, when the creature made a strange guttural sound. “CIRI! LOOK OUT!!!!” Geralt screamed, but before she could move, a phantom flame lept from deep inside the animal’s belly and straight towards her. She screamed, preparing for the inevitable searing pain of her skin being lit aflame, when she felt a strong hand push her out of the way.

“GERALT!!” she cried as she realized what had happened. She lept towards the barghest like a creature possessed, swiping through the vile creature with rage and vengeance. She leveled it quickly, rushing towards Geralt as the green ash still hung in the air. 

His entire right side of his chest and his arm looked burnt, the skin of his sword arm blistered and raw. “Geralt?” she whispered, afraid to touch. “Geralt please, please be alright.” She started to cry.

“Regis,” his voice cracked.

“Who??”

“In the crypt, in the cemetery...get Regis…” his voice groaning as he faded into unconsciousness.

Ciri looked once more at Geralt, then towards the cemetery just visible through the trees. A short distance away, she saw the singular crypt. She took off, running as fast as her legs would carry her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tombstones in Toussaint are a special treat, and hilarious to read.  
> Jean Luc-Picard does have one, and it says (Great Commander, Greater Man)  
> My personal favorite was added for Conan O'Brien, referencing when he played the game on his segment Clueless Gamer. He made it his personal goal to get laid on that Clueless Gamer episode, and when Geralt and Yennefer finally meet up on the unicorn, well, best Clueless Gamer ever, hands down. In honor of that, CDPR added a tombtone for him: Sir Conan of Braye End (Died of over titillation while witnessing an act of unicornipositusphilia), or basically, he got so excited watching people fuck on a unicorn he up and died. A fitting end, lol. 
> 
> Also, barghests are annoying and creep me the hell out, especially at the spoon house!


	5. Th Official Visit (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing for Geralt he knows so many local healers. And that he put the ring in the other side of the armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt's hanse is referenced here, as well as their fates. If you have not read the books, this chapter would most definitely be a spoiler (although I've certainly already spoiled this multiple times in FTLOC, so if you've read that, you're good!)

**Ciri**

She tore through the overgrown cemetery, narrowly avoiding what looked like the rotted husk of a large plant bud hidden within the dense undergrowth. The sunlight dappled through the thick vegetation surrounding the crypt, and she had a sinking feeling as to what kind of person would actively choose to reside in such a place. Normally one avoided residence in a graveyard until they no longer had a say in it. Geralt’s letters had mentioned Regis occasionally, only ever referring to him as an old friend. She never thought to question it further: a man in his 90s as well-known as Geralt of Rivia would inevitably have many old friends, but seeing as this one lived in a crypt had put her nerves on edge.

Still, it did not matter. Geralt lay unconscious in the nearby clearing. She had no other choice. 

“Hello? HELLO?” she cried as she pushed open the iron door. For a fleeting moment she was afraid she’d be met with the smell of death and decay, but rather the odor was rather chemical. Pharmologica, perhaps? It reminded her of the smell of healers. Dust motes floated lazily in the air around her, highlighted by the sunlight streaming through the open door behind her. She ventured a bit deeper into the crypt, leaving the motes and the sunlight to the higher levels, and shivered as the air took on a cooler temperature. A meager light flickered in the distance. 

“Who are you?” a voice sounded from behind her. Ciri started and immediately turned around. Behind her stood a tall man, hair a deep black, eyes steel grey with a hint of blue, and skin a ghostly white. He had somehow managed to come up on her without making even a hint of a sound. His presence was disturbingly unnerving, and despite being fully clothed, she felt naked and vulnerable in the thrall of those eyes. She backed away slowly. “R...Regis?” she sputtered out weakly. 

“No,” he stated as he took a step towards her. She stepped back once more and moved her hand to grasp Zireal on her back. The man watched her intently, following her retreating footsteps.

A hand touched her shoulder and she shrieked. 

“My apologies, young lady, I did not mean to startle you.” She turned to find another man before her. His eyes were kind, hair grey, and his voice soft. “I do apologize for my friend Detlaff. He is unused to strangers, and at times may appear slightly unnerving to those not used to him. Of course he means no harm.” His eyes moved to the dark-haired man, who merely scowled and walked past them, into the darkness of the crypt. “My name is Regis.”

Lingering unpleasantness about Detlaff vanished. “Regis, please, I need your help. Geralt is hurt.”

Regis’ expression immediately morphed from comforting smile to concern. “Take me to him.”

*******

As they rushed back through the undergrowth of the cemetery and into the clearing where Geralt lay, Ciri had the terrifying fear that she should not have left him. What if more of the barghests came back? He was completely vulnerable in his current state, fodder for any roving brigand or monster. She cursed her own foolishness, but thankfully her fear was unfounded. Geralt lay there undisturbed.

“Does he have his potions with him?” Regis asked as he bent down to examine him. Ciri handed Regis the small satchel. She had never learned anything in-depth about witcher potions - Geralt had been adamant that without the mutations the potions would kill her - so rather she had studied oils and decoctions. She did not trust herself to even pull up the right one for him. 

Regis grabbed a small red bottle. “Swallow,” he said with a smile as he uncorked the lid. He carefully opened Geralt’s mouth and poured the potion into it. “For injuries such as these, Swallow is an elixir of life to a witcher. This should help with tissue regeneration from the burns, but let us get him inside. Not only do we risk infection in this environment, but more disconcertingly, further hostilities.”

Ciri nodded, standing unsteadily to her feet. “Will he be alright?” she whispered. 

“That he shall, Ciri,” Regis responded. 

“You know me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. 

“Only from stories. I traveled with Geralt many years ago, searching for you.”

_ Geralt’s hanse. That’s the connection. _ “I didn’t think any survived. I was with Angoulême when…” she stopped short. Stygga.  _ So many dead and gone _ . 

“Yes,” replied Regis, a haunted expression overtaking his features. “It was…” he stopped as well. They both knew exactly what Stygga was. There was no need to repeat it. “My friend you recently met, Detlaff, saved my life. As you may have gathered, I am not exactly like the rest of the Geralt’s companions from those adventures.”

She eyed him. The crypt for a residence, the uncanny silence that he moved, the ancientness of him. She had heard rumors of what called Toussaint home. “You’re a…?”

“Higher vampire. Yes, I am. I hope that does not unnerve you. You’ve no cause for alarm. Minus one small relapse during the above-mentioned horror, I fully abstain from drinking blood.” 

She nodded, a smile crinkling her brow. “I am not worried, Regis. I am glad. I never had the chance to say thank you to one of Geralt’s companions. It is a blessing to do so now.” She was quiet, letting the weight of the moment fill her. “Thank you; thank all of you.” 

Regis nodded, his look somewhere far away. For a fraction of an instant, she swore she saw people around him: a woman with a bow in her arms; a man, tall and proud with an honest smile; a flaxen-haired girl she did recognize who softly touched Regis’ shoulder. As quickly as they appeared, the vision dissipated into the encroaching dusk.

“We should move him inside,” Regis replied, his voice cracking slightly. “A graveyard is never an advisable place to be after nightfall.” He picked up Geralt in his arms as though the heavy witcher weighed less than nothing. 

“True. Much safer to be in a crypt with a higher vampire,” Ciri laughed as she followed him. 

“Two,” returned Regis, a smile on his face. 

“Of course.” 

*******

Immediately after Regis laid Geralt down on the heavy stone table in the crypt, he began to work on a poultice. Once the concoction was complete, he and Ciri stripped away the charred fragments of his armor and shirt and applied the poultice over the burns. Geralt winced slightly, mumbling something inaudible before sleep claimed him again. “Is he in pain?” Ciri asked.

“I am not sure of the precise way the Swallow potion works, but I do believe it is more focused on healing the damage rather than managing the pain. My hope with this poultice is to not only encourage healing on the burns, but lessen the worst of the discomfort he is likely in. As to the scarring, I trust Yennefer will be able to mitigate the worst of it. She has been devoting more time to learning the healing arts, a passion which I am only too happy to share with her.”

“YENNEFER!!” Ciri yelped. “Oh no, I forgot about Yennefer!”

Regis looked at the girl for a moment. “Well, I cannot imagine this going smoothly.”

Ciri just groaned. 

**Yennefer**

_ Where ARE they? _ A thousand potential horrors raced through her mind. They were captured on the road? Attacked by one of those damned centipedes that roam the area? A cyclops from the hills took them? Each theory seemed more outlandish than the last, and yet that was all she had at the present moment. She had seen them head off to the training yard, then one of Ciri’s assistants had informed Yennefer that the witcher and the heir apparent would be leaving for Beauclair for an errand. Yennefer assumed Geralt had more armor to pick up or order - the man was constantly buying armor these days; something about needing every set of grandmaster crafted witcher gear - so she had not thought much of it. She was overwhelmed with work herself preparing for tomorrow’s royal party at Corvo Bianco, so Ciri and Geralt finding ways to keep themselves occupied was a convenience she happily accepted. Ciri’s entourage had certainly not been idle, however, and much to the chagrin of B.B., had unceremoniously taken up the role of party coordinators. She dreaded to think about how indignant he’d be tomorrow when Anna Henrietta’s team was thrown into the mix. The thought made her take a sip of wine. 

That had been well over half the day past though. The sun had long ago set into the lush western hills, and her family had yet to return. To say she was distressed was an understatement. 

She poured another glass of wine and drank without tasting it, trying to distract her mind from the continual onslaught of worries. It didn’t work.

*******

From behind her, finally, she heard a familiar sound. Turning immediately, she saw her daughter, and any initial frustration she may have felt immediately vanished at the sight of Ciri. She was disheveled and dirty, sweat and dirt and what looked like burnt remnants of clothing flecked along her arms. More disturbingly, she was alone. And then Yennefer knew.

_ Geralt. _

“Where is he?” she whispered, bile rising in her throat. 

“Regis,” Ciri replied, tears in her eyes. “Mamma, he…”

“Stay here,” Yennefer said abruptly. Without so much as looking back to hear what else Ciri had to say, she opened a portal and was gone. 

**Regis**

He felt the portal opening moments before she rushed through, terrified expression on her normally even and deceptively calm face. “Regis!” she replied. “Where is he? Is he…?” she couldn’t finish the phrase.

“Welcome, Lady Yennefer. Was Ciri not able to explain his condition? He is stable, but resting.”

“Where?” she said again, insistent. Regis knew the sorceress well enough to know she would refuse to be placated with words and would need visual proof. He pointed her to Geralt, still resting on the stone table. Detlaff was next to him, monitoring his vitals occasionally. Yennefer ran to him.

“Did you give him the Swallow potion?” she said. Regis saw she was examining his wounds. The potion and the poultice he had applied earlier were working in tandem to heal the witcher, incredibly fast at that. The skin had nearly healed.

“I did,” he smiled, and he saw Yennefer’s lip tremble slightly. “I made a poultice as well to speed along the healing and help manage any discomfort. He’s fairing far better now. I am always so amazed by the physical recovery capabilities of a witcher. His metabolic speeds are...well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yennefer,” she replied, a smile on her lips. “Please call me Yennefer, Regis, and thank you once again. I am extraordinarily indebted to you at this point.”

“Nonsense. As I have told you before, Yennefer, it’s always my pleasure to help a friend.” 

She nodded and grabbed Geralt’s hand softly. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to stay here with him until he wakes.”

He smiled, motioning to Detlaff to leave Geralt’s side. “Of course. We shall be in the sleeping quarters should you need anything.”

She smiled softly. “Thank you,” she whispered. Regis saw her tighten her hand on Geralt’s. “Thank you so much.”

**Geralt**

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Herbal, alchemical, sterile. And beside it, lilac and gooseberries. 

_ Yen. _

He opened his eyes to the dark.  _ Where was he? _ Then he remembered.  _ Regis. _ Ciri must have taken him to Regis after that damn barghest blast. He was just grateful he got Ciri out of the way in time. He felt his chest, and he groaned when he realized his armor was destroyed, but he could and least move his hands; someone had obviously had the foresight to shove some Swallow down his throat. He touched his arm and chest and felt the sticky residue of something.  _ A poultice? _ That would be Regis’ doing. At least the skin was healing. 

A thought crashed on top of him like a leaden weight.  _ THE RING! _

Geralt remembered he had sat the ring in one of his chest pockets. If it was on the right side, it was destroyed. He desperately checked the left pocket, praying it was there, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he felt the small box. 

“Geralt, are you awake?”

He turned to see her, blinking slightly as she fought to wake herself as well. He could just make out her violet eyes, noticing the smallest flecks of silver reflecting in the minimal light of the room - crypt - they were currently in. He had never seen that before. How was it that every time he looked at her, he found something new to admire? Some tiny piece of her that made her who she was. Something new for him to love. He wanted to keep finding these new pieces of her for the rest of his life. 

It was time.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he smirked softly.

She snorted lightly in response, then whispered a spell that cast a silver-blue illumination to the room. “Like you gave me much of a choice, Witcher. A tour of the haunted graveyards of Toussaint? Really? That was the big plan?”

“That was part of it,” he replied, his heart starting to pound. 

She sat up a bit straighter. “I’m assuming another trip to the armorers?” His lip went up in response, relishing the rare moment in his life where Yennefer was completely in the dark. “You’ll need another visit as well, given the sorry state of this gear. I’m not sure it can be salvaged. And Geralt, if you plan on taking our daughter on a tour of the local murderous and malicious flora and fauna, please do me the courtesy of at least informing me so I won’t need to spend countless hours imagining all means of horrors...” 

“Yen.”

“...not to mention, she’s the heir apparent, darling, not a would-be witcher, and she does have numerous responsibilities, of her own choosing…”

“Yen…”

“...of course, I am so glad she thought to get Regis, to whom I am so indebted in favors I’ll never…”

**“YEN!”**

She stopped, staring at him. He was certain she could hear his heart now hammering in his chest. “Geralt, are you feeling…?”

“Yen, will you marry me?”

Silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't cliffhangers just the best? ;)


	6. The Official Visit (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the proposal deserves a chapter in itself, no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave it to Geralt to make a proposal when your burned half to death and lying in a crypt the absolute height of romance.

The silence kept, the words hanging in the air thick and heavy like the promise of a summer thunderstorm. Geralt took a deep breath.

“Yen?” His stomach churned. He had made a mistake asking her here; perhaps asking her at all. Maybe, maybe if it had been somewhere beautiful, a place meant for proposals, she would be able to respond. But here? _ What had he been thinking? _ He’d lost her. He’d lost…

“Yes.”

Geralt looked at her, his heart racing so fast he was feeling lightheaded. She was smiling, and there was a radiance to it that he so rarely saw.

“Yes?” his voice cracked.

“Yes,” she said again, a bit louder this time, and he lifted his good arm and pulled her to him. Tears formed in his eyes, and she kissed them softly away.

“I was afraid you’d say no. That you’d leave. That it would be too much.”

She kissed him on the lips this time, soft and lingering, and he felt her smile against him. “How could you possibly think that?”

He cupped her cheek, reveling in the feel of her skin against his palm. “You were silent there for a long time. Too long.”

“It isn’t everyday a woman has the man she’s loved for over 20 years propose to her, Geralt. Especially here,” she quipped, her eyes lifting from his momentarily to indicate their surroundings. 

He laughed and looked around the crypt. “What, you mean the graveyard isn’t the height of romance for you?”

“To be more precise, a crypt, with you recovering from being nearly burned alive, and in the company of two higher vampires,” she laughed. “It sounds astonishingly-ridiculous to even say aloud.”

“Yeah well, you’re marrying a witcher,” and that stopped him. He said it in his mind again.  _ She’s marrying a witcher. She’s marrying me. She said yes. _ He grinned in what he could only imagine was a stupidly-huge smile. 

She smiled equally-huge, and he felt an absurd amount of pride that only one other person could garner such grins from the oft-taciturn sorceress, and that was their daughter. “I am,” she smiled, and she kissed him hard, opening her mouth to his. Immediately his body started to respond, causing her to pull away. “Witcher, if you have any ill-conceived notions that we’ll be making love on this grave slab in the company of Regis and Detlaff, while you are still recovering, you are sorely mistaken.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips then leaned into his ear, whispering against him. “I promise to make it up to you when you’re healed... _ fully _ healed.”

He groaned, annoyed at that, though he did have to admit she there was a certain logic to it. Unfortunately, all his lust-addled mind wanted was to pull her against him - regardless of the burns to his arm and chest - and bury himself in her. It took him a moment to even remember the ring. “I have something for you,” he smiled. He fumbled with the pocket in his armor strap, saying a small prayer of thanks once again that it hadn’t been destroyed by the barghest. He placed the leather box in her hands. “This is what Ciri and I were getting,” he grinned.

Her hands were trembling slightly, and she looked at him with wide eyes. He’d seen all amalgamations of Yennefer’s emotions and being, but this timid nervousness she had now was so antithetical to her he nearly laughed and ruined the moment. For a woman so used to being in control, it was a boon to Geralt’s confidence to know she was willing to let that go for him. “I hope you like it,” he said as she looked down and opened the box.

Yennefer gasped slightly, and when she finally spoke, her voice was breathy and soft. “Geralt, it’s…,” she stopped and a tear fell down her cheek. “It’s more perfect than I could ever imagine. How…?”

Relief flooded through him. He’d taken a risk, designing the ring himself. He was certainly no connoisseur of jewelry. But, he did know Yennefer. “I had it made in a shop in Beauclair,” he grinned. 

“Did you design it?”

“Surprised?”

“Extremely. After all these years, you’ve been secretly hiding a talent for jewelry creation.”

He laughed. “I know shit about jewelry, Yen, you know that.” He reached out to grab one of her inky curls, twisting the silk strands in his fingers. “I just happen to know a bit about you.”

She looked at him, another tear falling. “I love you, Geralt.”

He pulled her to him again then, kissing her lips in such a way that left them both hungry for more. He silently cursed the barghest. “I love you, too,” he whispered against her open mouth. She smiled and pulled herself away before he could take the kiss any farther. He was certain her resolve with no lovemaking was weakening, given her rapid heart rate and hungrier responses to him. 

“I know what you’re up to, Geralt,” she laughed. 

He groaned.  _ Fuck _ he wanted her. “You going to put it on?” he managed to get out. She slipped the ring on her finger. The diamonds caught the light of the glow spell Yennefer had cast earlier and they glittered. He took her hand and kissed the ring on it. He couldn’t believe they made it here. A thousand memories came unbidden to him. The ruined inn in Rinde. Leaving her that wretched day in Vengerberg. The dragon hunt. Two Kestrels. The endless stars of Belleteyn. Holding her again, the first time in years, at Hirundum. Thanedd. Stygga. Ebbing. Rivia. Their island of apple blossoms, sweet grasses, foreign skies, and goldfinch songs. Losing her again, watching as paradise burned, and fighting through time and space to find her once more. Lies and loss and bottomless rage and shame at his actions when he had forgotten her. Her letter to him. White Orchard. Vizima. Skellige and the wake. That glorious tapestry. Novigrad and the Wild Hunt and finally,  **_FINALLY_ ** , this moment. Years of joy and heartache alike, finally coming to this exact moment in time, in a  _ damn crypt  _ of all places, where she agreed to be his wife. 

And to think, once, he had been convinced he couldn’t feel any emotions. 

“Come’ere,” he said as he pulled her to him. She grinned happily and snuggled into the crook of his chest. He held her as best he could with his one good arm, and she rested her head against him. 

“It’s been a long road to get to here, hasn’t it?” she stated.

“Too long,” he agreed.

“Would you have changed any of it?”

“I would have told you I loved you the moment I knew it,” he said.

“And when did you know it?” she smiled coyly.

“Why do you think I portaled into that damn inn to save you in the first place?”

She laughed. “Touche, Geralt.”

“What about you?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’d be too afraid to. If one thing changed that prevented this….all the pain, the loss, it was all worth it for this moment.” He wrapped his arm around her tighter and sighed happily, feeling sleep starting to claim him again. “I still cannot believe you proposed in a graveyard crypt. I mean of all the places…”

“Gotta keep you on your toes. Can’t make it too easy and predictable,” he said. 

She kissed his chest lightly and sighed. “Never change, Geralt. I beg you.”

They both fell asleep in each other's arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally used that last line from Corvo Bianco in the games, because I love it.


End file.
